He earned a Purple Heart fighting for the US. Swept up in Trump’s immigration crackdown, he now fights to come home
He earned a Purple Heart fighting for the US. Swept up in Trump’s immigration crackdown, he now fights to come home
He earned a Purple Heart fighting – Sae Joon Park’s recent visit to Camp Humphreys feels like a fleeting return to America, as he orders pancakes and glances at soldiers in uniform, hearing a language he hasn’t spoken regularly since his self-deportation last summer. The garrison, located south of Seoul, is a sprawling military hub with chain restaurants, housing blocks, and training grounds, yet for Park, it’s a reminder of the distance from the life he once knew. “When I’m on base, it actually feels like I’m in America,” he said, reflecting on his brief reunion with the country he fought for. The 56-year-old Army veteran returned to his birthplace in June, a place he had not lived since childhood. As a Purple Heart recipient, Park is part of a growing group of noncitizen US military veterans who have been forced to leave the nation they served under President Donald Trump’s aggressive immigration policies, which have resurrected outdated removal orders and restricted immigration officials’ flexibility in decision-making.
A Veteran’s Journey
Now stranded in South Korea, Park’s story is one of resilience and regret. He first arrived in the United States as a child, fleeing his parents’ divorce and traveling alone from South Korea to Miami. The move was challenging, he recalled, as he faced bullying and frequent altercations in a school where he was the sole Asian student. “Miami was tough,” Park told CNN. “I would always get in fights … I was the only Asian kid in the entire school, so I would get picked on a lot.” Within a year, he and his mother relocated to Los Angeles, where he grew up in Koreatown and the San Fernando Valley, supported by an extended family network. His mother worked tirelessly as a waitress before starting small businesses that sold clothing and records.
From South Korea to the United States
After high school, Park sought direction, enlisting in the military with his best friend. His uncle, a South Korean Marine colonel, advised him to take the leap. Enlisted in the early 1980s, he quickly moved through basic training and was stationed at Fort Clayton in Panama by October 1989. There, he became part of the US military’s largest and most complex combat operation since the Vietnam War, as the country launched “Operation Just Cause” to remove Panama’s drug-trafficking leader, Manuel Noriega. Park described the mission as a defining moment, one that would earn him the nation’s highest combat honor.
During a raid on Noriega’s residence, Park’s platoon encountered a Brazilian woman believed to be the dictator’s “witch.” The operation, which involved occult rituals, left the house filled with “crates of cocaine” and jars of human body parts, according to Park. A sudden firefight erupted outside, and he was struck twice—once in the spine and again in the lower back—before being dragged to safety. “I was badly bleeding and struggling for every breath of air,” he said. Despite the injuries, Park survived, thanks to the efforts of his fellow soldiers and the medical team at a San Antonio Army hospital. His award ceremony, held in his hospital bed, marked the beginning of his journey as a Purple Heart recipient.
The Battle in Panama
Although the details of the attack are hazy, Park remembers the aftermath vividly. The trauma of the experience lingered, eventually shaping his mental health. Upon returning to civilian life, he grappled with what he later identified as post-traumatic stress disorder. “After I came out of the military … I’m trying to live my life as a twenty, twenty-one-year-old, and I was really messed up,” he told CNN. Everyday sounds and images triggered panic attacks, while nightmares kept him restless. His struggles with the disorder were compounded by the legal challenges he faced.
When Park self-deported last summer, immigration officials had unexpectedly threatened to arrest him during a routine check-in. The move was prompted by a prior criminal conviction, which he had committed while adjusting to life in the US. His case gained national attention in December during a heated congressional hearing, where lawmakers questioned then-Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem about the treatment of veterans under Trump’s immigration policies. Despite the scrutiny, the Department of Homeland Security continued to emphasize his drug possession and bail-jumping records as justification for his removal.
Struggles After Service
Park is not alone in his struggle. Immigration attorneys argue that Trump’s policies have created a system where even those who have sacrificed for the US can be expelled without due consideration. His attorney, however, is optimistic that multiple legal avenues—such as a pardon from the New York governor—might help him reclaim his place in the country. “These processes could take years, but they offer hope,” the lawyer noted. Yet, the uncertainty of his case has sparked a broader debate: should individuals who have risked their lives for the US be treated as second-class citizens, especially when they have legal convictions?
Reflecting on his early years in America, Park’s journey from a vulnerable child to a decorated soldier is a testament to his perseverance. “I had to learn how to fend for myself at a young age,” he said. The challenges he faced in Miami, however, were just the beginning. As he grew older, he found a sense of belonging in Los Angeles, where his cultural roots were closer and his community more supportive. The military, he believed, was the best path forward. “We were ready to give everything for the country,” he said. But now, that same country has cast him out, leaving him to navigate a life disrupted by policy decisions made far from his experiences.
Park’s story highlights the tensions between national service and immigration law. While his actions in Panama were heroic, his criminal record became a point of contention. The question remains: should a veteran’s past mistakes overshadow their service to the nation? His case has become a symbol for those who fear that Trump’s administration is prioritizing enforcement over compassion, especially for individuals who have contributed to the country’s defense. As he waits for resolution, Park continues to speak about his ordeal, hoping to inspire a dialogue that might lead to his return. “I want to be back in America,” he said. “This place is where I started, where I grew, and where I fought.”
In the wake of his deportation, Park has become a voice for a group of veterans caught in the crosshairs of a policy that often overlooks their sacrifices. His experiences underscore the complexity of the issue, blending personal struggle with broader political consequences. While the legal system moves slowly, his story remains a powerful reminder of the human cost of immigration enforcement. Whether he ultimately returns to the US or not, Park’s journey from a young immigrant to a Purple Heart recipient, and then to a man seeking redemption, is a narrative that challenges the very foundation of American values. “We are the ones who stand in the way of bullets for this country,” he said. “Why should we be sent back just because we made a mistake?”